


The Only Thing We Have

by Naite_Laef



Series: Allure [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Misgendering, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Puberty, Sexual Assault, Trans Zuko (Avatar), Transphobia, Unreliable Narrator, Zuko (Avatar)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naite_Laef/pseuds/Naite_Laef
Summary: Zuko knows one thing, and one thing only: Love must be earned.Part Two of Allure AU, where Zuko is transgender (assigned female at birth).
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Ozai & Zuko (Avatar), Piandao & Zuko (Avatar), Ursa & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Allure [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006965
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	1. Everything You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Main TWs throughout story: gender dysphoria, transphobia, sexual assault. More detailed content warnings in end note.

Zuko loves to read, but he’s out of folk tales and other stories of legend to keep him entertained. He’s read all the scrolls he could reach- some of them twice, His mother, as well as the librarian, have been nice enough to pick out a few scrolls for him on the higher shelves, but both of them are too busy to help him at the moment. He thinks hard on what he wouldn't mind rereading. The Legend of The Painted Lady is too boring. The Tale of Genji and The First Dragon catches his eye, but he remembers that adventure almost as clearly as he does Love Amongst the Dragons. 

Not a problem, the 6-year-old decides. He’ll just have to start looking in new places. He usually sticks to the lore or literature sections, but maybe he can find a cool war story. So, he starts picking through scrolls at random, starting with the farthest corner of the palace library. Unfortunately, the history section doesn’t have anything that looks promising- almost none of the scrolls have pictures- so he moves on. Sitting in front of the natural sciences section, he unrolls his latest pick, and blinks in surprise. 

The yellow paper shows a drawing of a man, knees slightly bent, one arm tucked close to his chest, and a fist stretched out in front of him. Chi paths run through the man's body in faded shades of red. Small, messy lettering covers the edges of the pages, explaining how firebending works with big words he doesn’t know how to say yet. 

Zuko has only just started to show signs of being able to produce flames at will. For as long as he can remember, his lessons have mostly been breathing exercises, and stance work. Recently, his training has also included letting his chi take over one of Master Kunyo's small flames, as well as learning his first basic kata. He's only made his own fire a few times, because his master says Zuko just isn't ready for more right now. His academic tutors say the same thing- that Zuko isn't very smart, and that he can't move onto the next set of lessons right now. Which is kind of confusing, because he thought reading a lot would make him smarter.

This scroll, though… Zuko hasn’t ever seen a scroll like this before. Even though he doesn't understand what any of the words mean, his large eyes don't leave the page. 

The naked man in the picture makes him curious. Between the diagram's bare legs is a really big finger. It looks a little familiar, like he's seen it before, but he can't remember where. Zuko definitely doesn't have a finger down there, and he thinks he would know if he did. He wants to learn more about it, too. He wants to ask his mom for help, but he's kind of afraid to. He doesn't know why, but it almost feels like he found something he shouldn't have. After all, people wear clothes, and the man in the picture wasn't wearing any. Is that bad? Zuko isn't allowed to walk around without any clothes on- it makes yhe servants really nervous. Would his mom be mad at him if she knew he had seen the scroll- if he had seen a naked person?

When she asks what he read about today, he thinks it's as good a time as any to bring it up. He tells her about the weird finger-thing, too, because he just can't get it off his mind.

"If I'm really good, can I have one?" he asks, a little shy as he stares at his feet. 

She doesn't answer right away. When he looks up at his mother, his eyes go wide when he sees how surprised she looks. She clears her throat, quickly giving him a small smile. Zuko just looks at her for a second, wondering if he had said something bad, but he relaxes a little when she motions for him to come sit with her. He crawls into her lap, leaning back against her warm chest, because Mom is soft, and gentle, and kind. Her arms wrap around him, and her touch makes him feel calm right away. The nervous butterflies in his tummy flutter off when he realises she's not mad about his questions. She's just thinking really hard about how to answer them. That must be why her cheeks are so red.

"What you saw isn't something you can grow later on in life, sweetheart," she tells him.

Her words don’t make any sense. "What do you mean?" 

She explains to him the differences between boys and girls. Only boys have that body part, and they're born with it. She says Zuko is a girl, so Zuko doesn't have one, and never will. That thought… kind of makes him sad. 

And he doesn't really understand- why does a dangly thing between someone's legs make them a boy?- but for now, he just nods and listens. He doesn't ask too many questions, because his tutors hate questions. They say it means he wasn't paying enough attention, and his dad says that questioning your elders only shows disrespect. He’s lucky he got away with asking one question already. So, Zuko just pretends to understand everything his mom says, and that only makes her talk more.

She says these things are normal, and not bad, but that Zuko shouldn't talk about these things with other people. Mom also says Azula is too young for this talk right now, so he shouldn't mention this to his sister. With a wrinkle of his nose, Zuko thinks that maybe his mother doesn't know Azula as well as she thinks she does. After all, Azula already seems to know everything. 

Ignoring his mom's warning, he drags his sister along to the library the very next day, but she doesn't seem to be listening to him. He tells her all the new words he's learned- like penis and vagina and sex- but she doesn't even care. Azula only makes a face at the picture. 

"Gross," she says, her tiny nose all scrunched up. "It looks floppy and stupid. I like our private parts way better."

Zuko doesn't agree. Their own bits are all tucked inside of them, hidden from view. He tried peeking down there in the bath, but there's nothing to really look at, and the servants helping him had acted really weird about it. They got all red and told him to never do that again. He hasn't been able to find any of the crazy things his mother told him about. 

But this thing- this new thing! The older child tilts his head to the side. He thinks it looks funny, but not in a bad way. When he tells Azula this, she calls him a dum-dum before walking away, interest gone. 

A stray thought makes him sit straighter, and he looks up to see his sister turning out of the aisle. “Wait! Do you think Mai would like it?” he says, raising his voice. “Lala, are you still there?”

He sighs when she doesn’t answer. Zuko stays just a few more minutes, trying to decide whether or not he should show Mai, too. 

Mai isn’t actually his friend- Mai and Ty Lee are both Azula’s friends from school- but he thinks she’s nice enough. She doesn't laugh at him like Azula and Ty Lee do, and she has very shiny hair, which is kind of pretty. It also means that Mai would make a good friend. He doesn’t have the same chances to make friends like his sister does, so right now all of his friends are scrolls- which isn’t bad, but, well, it’s not the best. His tutors come to the palace to teach him one-on-one, because Zuko's scores aren't high enough for him to attend the Royal Fire Academy for Girls.

He looks at the shelves across from him, frowning. Maybe he could tell Mai about private parts, too. Then she would think he was smart- smart enough to be her friend, and then they could talk and hold hands. Friends hold hands, right?

"In my way, as usual."

The cold voice of his father makes him jump to his feet, and Zuko stands up straight to show respect. With a small bow, he says, "I'm sorry, Dad. I was just-"

"I didn't ask," the man says, giving the scroll on the floor a frown.

Zuko's face feels hot all of a sudden, but he doesn’t really know why. He hopes his dad doesn't actually see what's on the page. Would Zuko be in trouble if he saw? For looking at… adult things?

His dad leaves without saying anything else, his robes dragging against the floor and over the scroll.

As soon as his dad is out of sight, Zuko falls to the ground, carefully checking the paper for any signs of rips or tears. Seeing none, he decides that the scroll will be safer in his room. He stuffs it down his trousers, in the space where his- where the boy parts would hang, if he had any. He looks behind him, making sure his dad is really gone. 

Not that Zuko is afraid, of course. It's just that his dad seems to be mad all the time now. A little mean, even. So, Zuko does his best, trying not to end up in Dad's way, even if it doesn't work most of the time. He gets a lot of nasty words and looks, but he knows his dad doesn't really mean it. Dad loves him, just like Mom does, but she says that Dad shows it differently. 

Zuko just has to work harder. That's all. 

Still, he feels bad for whatever it is that has his father so angry in the first place. 

A year later, he thinks of the scroll again as he peeks through his cousin's room. 

Lu Ten left the palace over an hour ago to finish his enlistment paperwork in the city. Now at a whole 17 years of age, he plans to join the army. He seems so eager- so excited to be serving his country. He's been spending more and more time at the recruiting headquarters lately, which is odd because he doesn't have to enlist through them since he's royalty. But he goes anyway, because it's something that makes Lu Ten happy.

Zuko wants his cousin to be happy, but he just can't imagine a life without his best friend. He's always been able to count on the teen to ruffle his hair, to chase him around the beach, to show him neat little firebending tricks... Lu Ten has always been like a big brother. Even being an entire decade older, he never treats Zuko like a baby. He always makes time for his younger cousin, no matter how small the request.

With a sigh, Zuko pulls himself back to the present. He'd rather Lu Ten be here to play with him, but if his cousin is already gone-

Wait. What does Lu Ten do when Zuko isn't around? With a frown, he wonders what kind of things a teenager keeps in their bedroom, anyway- definitely cool adult things, right? Then he remembers the scroll, and subsequently, the talk his mother gave him. She'd made it sound like boys and girls are really different from each other, but Zuko doesn't know if he believes her. After all, he and his cousin are a lot alike. Still, he wonders if boys have anything special in their rooms. Probably not, but it can't hurt to look, right? 

He sneaks into the main chamber, sure to look under the bed and pull open all the drawers of the bedside table. There aren't very many things to find, because Dad says that only commoners fill their living spaces with useless junk. What little Zuko does come across looks fairly boring- a comb, a small jar of unscented oil, meditation candles, and way too many hair ties.

Unsatisfied, he inspects the adjoining bathroom. A slender knife without a handle sits on the counter, still damp with little hairs clinging to it. Zuko eyes it for a moment, wishing he could have a knife, too. He knows his destiny lies in joining the military to help his nation win the war. And despite being a bender, he knows he's not very good. Maybe learning to use a weapon would be a good idea? He briefly thinks about taking it, but this knife has been much too recently used, so Lu Ten will surely notice if it goes missing.

When he reaches the first wardrobe in the dressing room, he finds it full of clothes he's never seen Lu Ten wear. He fumbles through stacks of too-short shorts, and even shirts without sleeves. The shorts- the underpants, Zuko realises- are like his own in that they look tailored to fit tighter on the body, meant to stop halfway down the thighs. However, they all have an extra piece on them, and it's the reason he didn't realise what they are at first. A separate, darker piece of cloth falls over the crotch, hanging out from the waistband. Zuko frowns, because his undershorts don't look like that. Maybe the extra fabric hides the bulge of a boy's private parts, for modesty?

His heart gives a strange little jerk, and suddenly, he's diving through the assortment of neatly-folded underwear, looking for the smallest pair. He wants one. Just a single pair of boys' underwear.

He needs one. 

Despite his age, and his stocky father, Lu Ten is lean like his mother supposedly was, and Zuko finally stumbles upon the smallest of the shorts. He glances down at his current attire, thinking his loose outer clothes will hide the extra layer of clothing just fine. In his excitement, Zuko never even questions his actions. Something in his stomach flutters, and he just acts on instinct.

Wasting no time, Zuko runs back through his cousin's chambers, sure to leave everything as he originally found it before rushing to the door. Very carefully, he pokes his head out, looking for any sign of life in the corridor while hiding the faded shorts behind his back. Content with his stretch of privacy, he races back to the dressing area, practically kicking his shoes across the room in his haste. His sash comes off next, then the collared shoulder piece. The crimson dress flies over his head, sending his hair flying, but he doesn't care. His trousers sink down his thighs with every movement now, and he finally pulls them off, revealing his own pink underwear. With trembling fingers, Zuko pulls Lu Ten's undershorts on over them. 

The fit isn't terrible- a little long, but they somewhat hold up on their own. Turning to look in the floor-length mirror to the right, a gasp escapes him. Eyes wide, he steps closer to his reflection, fingers dancing across the soft fabric. Zuko thinks he looks a little strange, wearing a long-sleeve shirt without any trousers, but his breath catches in his throat all the same. 

He likes this. 

He really, really likes this.

A slender hand slowly travels across the burgundy garment, eventually settling over his groin. The extra fabric there is loose, sagging away from his body. He presses his palm a little harder, noticing for perhaps the first time just how flat his private parts are. 

What if he's missing something down there and he doesn't even know it? All his bits are technically on the inside, right? There could totally be a missing piece, gone unnoticed. That would certainly be his luck.

He sighs. Maybe it doesn't matter. He's still young, and he doesn't plan on having children anytime soon- hopefully never, he thinks with a hint of disgust. He remembers his mother's brief explanation on how babies are made, and really, why would he let someone stick one of those boy parts down there? That's just gross. 

Either way, he likes these undershorts enough to wear them. And although he doesn't know why, he figures he probably shouldn't let anyone find out about this little… whatever this adventure has been. It's not even the fact that he's stealing. It's about the underclothes themselves, but also something a little more- Zuko doesn't even know what to call it. Whatever it is, it makes him feel warm on the inside, like his inner flame burns a little brighter. It starts as a tingle, deep in his stomach, and it spirals outward to his limbs, wrapping around his torso on the way. Yet, his heart has never felt lighter. Short eyelashes dart together as his eyes shut, and he takes a deep breath. 

This feels right.

A soft rustle of fabric startles him. Whirling around, he looks up at his cousin, shoulders rising with tension. Sweat pools under his arms, and he takes a step backwards without thinking, nearly bumping into the wardrobe. Heat floods his face, but it's not from an embarrassed flush. 

Zuko is scared. 

Casually leaning against the door frame, Lu Ten crosses his arms. An odd look flickers across his face, and it's an emotion that Zuko doesn't recognise. Nervous apologies fall from the child's mouth, and as far as Zuko can tell, the words are jumbled, and he's not actually making any sense. His heart races, and his hands ache with how hard he clenches them, and his vision blurs with the dreaded tears.

He flinches violently when a large hand cups his shoulder, despite the tenderness in the touch. There's still a bruise from when his father gripped him too hard just the other day. 

Suddenly Lu Ten crouches down in front of him, tilting his head to try and meet Zuko's eyes. 

"Little Cousin," he coos. "Please don't cry. I'm not upset with you. I promise."

Sniffing, Zuko looks up to see a familiar face just inches from his own. Lu Ten's olive skin wears a hesitant smile, intense golden eyes gazing into the kid's pale face. Still, the 7-year-old feels shame curling around his throat, and it only heightens his panic. "I'm sorry," he gasps, but Lu Ten uses his free hand to wipe away the tears. 

"It's okay," he whispers, his tone gentle in a way that reminds them both of Ursa. "Shh, don't cry, Zuko. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I-" Zuko almost chokes on the words. "Yes, I do. This is wrong!"

With one corner of his mouth twitching just a little higher, Lu Ten almost smiles, but stops. He searches his cousins' eyes for a long moment, then very carefully asks, "Why do you say that?"

"Because no one told me I could," comes the watery reply. Zuko opens his mouth as if to say more, but hesitates. "No one told me I could enter your rooms without permission, or-" Another pause. "Or wear your clothes. It was a dumb idea."

Pursing his lips, Lu Ten lets his hands fall, allowing them to rest in his lap instead. "Why?" His patient voice barely climbs higher than a murmur. "Is it dumb because they're my clothes?" He pauses. "Or is it because they're boys' clothes?"

"I'm not a boy," Zuko blurts out, voice just as quiet. His sobs have ceased rather abruptly as his survival instincts take over- they need to be quiet. If Lu Ten snuck up on him so easily, then surely a servant could. He's terrified that his father will somehow find out, and he has no idea how Ozai will react to such unbecoming behaviour. Neither the crossdressing nor the crying will go unpunished, or so he imagines. Of course, no one has ever said that dressing as the opposite sex is wrong, but no one has told Zuko it's alright, either. And he can only do what he's told. He is a princess, but he is a prisoner in the palace all the same.

And he doesn't want to give Dad yet another reason to be disappointed with him. That's the last thing Zuko wants.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he says, “Mom said I’m a girl.” If it’s a weird thing to say, his cousin doesn’t show it. Still, it makes Zuko’s stomach feel funny.

After an uncomfortably long minute of silence, Lu Ten speaks up. "Tell you what," he starts, rising to his feet. He goes around the small room, collecting the clothes that have been haphazardly thrown across the floor. "Why don't you keep it, okay? It's not like I'll need it. I have plenty more smallclothes to wear, and that's an older pair, anyway."

He holds out Zuko's trousers, and the child tentatively begins to dress, deciding to trust the teenager and keep the shorts on. Lu Ten watches him, and it should be weird, but it isn't. The older cousin looks without actually seeing him, his mind seemingly far off in thought. It's an expression Zuko has seen many times before on Uncle Iroh's face when in a state of inner debate, trying to decide on the best course of action.

"You won't tell anyone, right?" Zuko asks, beside himself with worry.

"What?" Lu Ten absently says. He blinks, as if coming out of a haze, and says firmly, "Spirits, no. This can just be our secret, okay?" 

Zuko nods.

Lu Ten looks torn for a moment, then shifts from foot to foot. "And… And you can come back to try on my clothes whenever you want. Even when I'm gone," he says. "How does that sound?"

"Really?," the child mutters, his shyness overtaking him once more at the generous offer. With some strategic pat-downs, Zuko's usual attire hides the extra layer of clothing well. 

Lu Ten smiles, hesitant but encouraging. There's something in his eyes- something he's holding back from Zuko. For once, the younger cousin doesn't press it. Instead, he nods again in understanding, much calmer now. "Thank you," Zuko says, eyes slightly red and swollen. He's a pitiful sight, and they both stand there for a pregnant pause, allowing the child to collect his thoughts and reign in his emotions.

"Little Cousin," Lu Ten finally prompts, hands rising to straighten Zuko's collar. 

"Yes?"

"I'll always love you," the deep, comforting voice whispers. With a final tug at the stiff material, Lu Ten's hands lightly hold Zuko's round face, as though handling precious porcelain. "No matter what. You know that, right?"

In a tiny voice, Zuko repeats, "Really?" He fiddles with the hem of his dress, too scared to look up in case the answer isn't what he needs to hear.

But then Lu Ten runs one of those hands through Zuko's hair. He grins, eyes shining, and he looks as genuine as ever while he combs the thick strands loose from Zuko's crooked up-do. All the tension is gone from his posture, and his answer comes easily.

"Really," he solemnly swears.

When Lu Ten leaves a few weeks later for basic training, Zuko feels as though a part of him is gone, too. He's lonely, and he doesn't know what to do with himself most of the time. 

Azula's been snapping at him more than usual, making hurtful little comments about his firebending, so he's been trying to steer clear of her for now. Unfortunately, that also means he hasn't seen Mai or Ty Lee for a while, either.

The next time he sees Azula's friends, Zuko is in the gardens, trying to toss pebbles through a gap between two tree branches. He startles a little when Ty Lee shouts in greeting.

"Hi, Zuko!" Ty Lee says, cheerful as ever. "Have you seen Azula?"

"Oh," Zuko mumbles, expression falling a little. Of course they didn't come to see him. They're only here for his sister.

But as soon as his eyes pass over Mai, the disappointment turns to embarrassment, and he has to look away. He can't exactly look disappointed, like he was hoping for some company. That would be pathetic, right? Zuko is a princess, and he needs to act like one.

Trying to appear casual, he sends another rock spiraling through the air. It missed its mark completely, hits the tree trunk, and makes a very noticeable scraping sound before falling to the grass.

"What did that tree ever do to you?" Mai asks, sounding bored. 

A flush rises to his cheeks, and he doesn't want to turn around. He doesn't want her to see how nervous he is. "It's just target practice," he lies. Honestly, he's bored and doesn't want to play with his toys anymore. 

They're nice toys, of course. He has a few porcelain dolls, all delicately painted and topped with long, dark hair from a dragon moose's mane. He even has an odd, metal spiral- one with lots of colourful coils that used to be able to slink and bounce down stairs. Until, of course, Azula burned and disfigured one of the coils so badly that it can't move with its own momentum anymore. 

Here he is, forced to play with rocks like some wild child. Except it's actually kind of fun, and he's kind of good at it, too-

"You're not very good, are you?" Ty Lee says, which makes him frown. 

Before he can argue, Mai is stepping towards him, a small hand wrapping around his wrist. "Your wrist is all wrong," she says. He blinks, a little stunned by the sight of her face so close to his. He tries really, really hard not to breathe on her, because that would probably be weird, right? He doesn’t know, because only his Mom and Lu Ten ever bring their faces this close to his. Azula used to, but he doesn’t remember the last time she did.

Mai tries to move his hand in a certain way, but it just flops back and forth like a dead fish. Zuko's brain is too warm and fuzzy to catch on. Is he sick? Maybe he's sick. Firebenders naturally run warm, but he feels very, very warm all of a sudden. And then he turns ice-cold, because Mai drops his hand quickly as if burned, right as Azula's voice sounds off behind them. 

"What, already trying to replace me so soon?" Zuko turned around, one hand glued to the wrist Mai touched in reverence. "The prototype is full of faults, I'm afraid."

"Pro- what did you just call me?" Zuko fumes. He doesn't know what that word means, but he definitely knows he's being made fun of. 

"She means you were born first," Ty Lee chimes in. "When people make things, the first try never comes out quite right." Eyes wide, as if realising what she's just implied, she claps a hand over her mouth. "Oops! Sorry, Zuko, I swear I didn't mean-"

Mai cuts off the muffled apology. "It's so hot outside," she complains. "Are we just going to stand here all day?"

Zuko looks to Ty Lee, whose big eyes are still trained on him in regret. He sees Mai, whose eyes flicker uncomfortably to stare at her feet. And he knows without even looking that Azula is watching him very carefully. "Care to join us, Zuzu?" she says, a hidden quality to her voice that he just can't identify. 

"Don't call me that," he huffs, crossing his arms. "It's such a baby name." 

"It’s fitting, if you’re going to act like one," she says, her calm expression heating up just a little. "Play by yourself. See if I care!”

"Fine!" Zuko snaps, but he's not really sure why either of them are angry. An awkward moment passes before Azula turns to leave, Mai and Ty Lee hesitating for a fraction of a second before quickly falling into step behind the younger princess. He waits until he's sure they're gone before dropping his crossed arms. 

Zuko and Azula aren't close anymore, and he doesn't like it. 

He doesn't like the way she talks down to him, or the way her friends look at him with pity. He doesn’t like how lonely it’s been without his cousin or sister’s company. He doesn’t like how Dad’s been spending more time with Azula lately.

But it’s fine. 

He's fine. 

Zuko is absolutely, totally, just fine.

When Uncle Iroh first sends word from the frontline, presents arrive as well. Two dolls- one for Zuko, and one for Azula. Neither child can quite hide their disappointment. 

Zuko supposes his doll might be pretty enough, but it simply doesn't do anything for him. It's not the fact that he doesn't play with toys anymore, or even the doll's obvious Earth Kingdom ethnicity. The thought of playing with it just doesn't interest him. He appreciates the thought of a gift, though, so he quickly pretends to like it. After all, that's what nice kids do. It's only proper.

Azula, however, holds no misgivings about showing her displeasure. When she sets her doll on fire, Mother sends him away so she and Azula can talk. He gladly runs, eager to get away from his crazy sister, and what he knows will be a very stern conversation. And before he knows it, he's back in Lu Ten's bathroom, the shiny blade in his right hand. Looking down at the doll, he thinks it would look better without the dress. Because how can girls even fight in dresses? It's simply not practical. 

He doesn't even think- not until much later, anyway- about how well Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee can all fight and play in dresses. He doesn't even think about his own closet, filled with flowing, feminine clothing that doesn't hinder movement in the slightest. No, he only sees the doll's dress, and it almost seems to mock him. He doesn't know why, but it does, and it makes him so angry-

With great care, he saws through the fabric enough to reveal the second layer of clothing beneath- a loose pair of trousers. Somewhat pleased, the 8-year-old eyes his work. It looks much better indeed, with a proper tunic now. And then he frowns and thinks, well, since he's already got the knife in his hand, he might as well-

His mother is not happy with him. She demands to know why he mutilated the doll, and Zuko argues that he was only trying to cut its hair. He really didn't mean to cut off half the doll's face. Or singe the remaining hair. His hand had slipped, both times. Honest.

Later that evening, around the dinner table, Mother goes off on a short tangent about her deranged daughters, more fondly exasperated than actually upset. Azula smiles, pretending to be the good little girl she is not. Zuko also smiles, his mouth wavering as he, too, tries to be something he is not. 

"They were such beautiful dolls," Ursa laments.

When Ozai learns the specifics of how each doll had been destroyed, he says, "Only the best of firebenders know to find true beauty in the most dangerous of flames. Well done, Azula."

She preens.

"Speaking of firebending," Ozai continues, voice hardening with reproach.

When the sharp gaze turns to Zuko, the child can feel his stomach fall to the floor, his appetite long gone. "Master Kunyo tells me you're unable to produce fire whips yet." 

Zuko bows his head a little, knowing that he barely has the control needed to keep a continuous stream of fire locked onto a target. He certainly doesn't have the precision needed to focus his stream into a whip, let alone move it with such fluid motions yet. These are excuses, though, and his father does not like excuses. He listens uncomfortably as his father goes on to bring up exactly how far behind Azula he is, despite being a year older than her. 

"She was born lucky," Ozai states. "You were lucky to be born."

And it feels like rocks have fallen into his stomach, cold and hard where only flame should sit. Eyes wide and wet, mouth still hanging open in horror, Zuko feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise as Azula laughs. He looks to his mother, and the worst part is, she says nothing. She purses her lips, sad eyes turned on him, but she does not speak out against Ozai's words. She must agree.

Everyone thinks he's a failure. That's why Dad doesn't spend time with him. That's why he and Azula are fighting more often. That's why nobody likes him.

Zuko is the problem. 

The next time Zuko trains, he trains with his father's reproach in mind. His body aches, cold sweat racing down his back as he slips up again and again. Ozai had sent Master Kunyo to the colonies after Azula's complaints of him being inadequate. Their new instructor is much more to his sister's and father's liking. Master Yusu doles out slaps to the wrist and kicks to his shins in punishment. Master Yusu, Father says, will keep Zuko on his toes. 

The child nearly passes out several times from thirst and exertion, but he doesn't give up. It takes him weeks, but he finally manages to make a fire whip consistently on each try. His father watches his lessons one day, and when Zuko turns to look at him, their gazes meet.

Something shifts in his dad's expression, just for a moment, but Zuko isn't able to figure it out before Ozai finally turns and walks away. 

It's Mom who praises Zuko's hard work, and sneaks him an extra hug after dinner. It's his lady's maid, Giya, who helps him celebrate by preparing a hot bath to soak his sore muscles in, topped off with a new, sweet-smelling soap. Father doesn't so much as say a word to him. Is he proud? Disappointed? Something else?

Zuko then realises he shouldn't have expected anything else. 

He has fleeting memories of a gentle hand on his head, as they stand in the sand. He remembers a deep voice, low and calming, as he falls asleep. The scratch of facial hair against his cheek. 

These are things he knows have happened, years and years ago, back when he was too little to make any lasting memories. He doesn't know where or when they happened. He only knows that these moments are of his father, the man who holds so much of Zuko's admiration and respect and love.

It makes him kind of sad, to think that maybe his dad doesn't remember the good times they've had, but Zuko will keep trying. One day, Dad will be proud of him. Zuko just has to earn it. 

He just needs to try harder.

"That's what I love about you," Ursa tells him one night as she tucks him into bed. "That you never give up. You're a fighter."

He hugs his mother, hard, because she always knows exactly what to say. He's a fighter. He's not a prodigy like his sister- nothing comes easy to him. Zuko must work for what he wants, he must fight for it, and that's exactly what he'll do. He can't give up.

The hug quickly turns sour when Zuko turns his head, sending wet strands of loose hair slapping against the side of Ursa's face. She gasps, and when Zuko realises what's happened, he apologises profusely. But his mother and father are very different people. His mother simply laughs, telling him not to worry. She says his hair is too tangled from his bath, anyway. She disappears for a moment, then returns from his bathroom with a comb in one hand. 

"Come here," she says. As soon as she seats herself on the edge of the bed, he turns his back to her, sitting between her legs. The double rows of teeth glide through his thick, wet hair smoothly, and she knows just how to get all the knots out without hurting him. 

"You have such lovely hair," she whispers. "You're so beautiful, Zuko. Do you know that?"

Zuko doesn't feel beautiful, but he doesn't exactly feel ugly, either. So, he shrugs. "I guess."

His mother clucks her tongue. "I wish you could see yourself how I see you," she sighs. "You and your sister are absolutely beautiful. Azula knows, obviously." They both share a quick laugh, because it's clear that his younger sibling has no qualms with confidence, in any area whatsoever. When their chuckles die down, Ursa pauses in her ministrations, gently sweeping the straight locks to one side of his head without bothering to put it up in its elaborate bun. 

"Soon, you're going to be such a stunning young woman, Zuko," she says. And he doesn't know why, but the thought unsettles him. It doesn't quite sound right- doesn't fit somehow. He's never pictured himself in such a way, and he doesn't know that he wants to. He loves his mother, but knowing that he'll likely resemble her so much more as he gets older… it makes his stomach ache, almost.

And his mother is gorgeous. He thinks so, and everybody else certainly says so. Shouldn't he want to look just like her?

"Right now, you two are my perfect little girls. But I can't wait to see you both grow up," Ursa murmurs. "It seems like you're getting taller and taller these days. Where has the time gone?" 

She hugs him again, and he hesitantly returns the embrace. 

"Is everything alright? Ursa asks, noticing how the light in her child's eyes has changed as she pulls away.

"Just tired," Zuko says, weakly. 

Would his mother still love him, even if he wasn't beautiful? He... doesn't want to know, so he doesn't ask. 

She kisses him goodnight, and leaves him in darkness. Zuko decides then and there that he likes the dark, because beauty matters very little when it can't be seen.

He doesn't know a whole lot about beauty anyway. Not until he sees Mai in the courtyard one day. 

He's walking with his mother through a breezeway, on their way back from her favourite tea room, when he nearly stumbles. Sitting under a tree, Mai is slightly hunched forward, fiddling with something in her hands. But the way her sleek hair falls just above her eyes, so focused and intelligent compared to whatever dumb cartwheeling game Azula and Ty Lee are playing... The thought enters his mind before he can even really process it. 

She's beautiful. 

Seconds later, Azula comes running over to request his presence, whining about how they need another player for some stupid game. And even then, their mother doesn't seem to notice how much Zuko hates that idea.

"I don't want to play with you!" the 9-year-old declares, leaning into the courtyard to frown down at Azula, who stands just an inch shorter than him. Their newfound height difference is more than enough for him to try and impose his will on his younger sister; the keyword, of course, is try, because Azula bends for no one. 

"We're sisters. It's important for us to spend time together," she bemoans, and Zuko just knows she's lying. Yet, his fate is sealed when she sends their mother an innocent smile. "Don't you think so, Mom?"

"Yes, darling, I think it's a good idea to play with your sister," Mom tells him, gently squeezing his shoulder in encouragement. "Go on now. Just for a little while." She starts to walk away, and Zuko glares at his sister, but Azula doesn't even see it. The younger girl is already directing her friends on where to stand- Mai in front of the fountain, and Ty Lee off to Azula's side. Zuko stomps over to Mai, the person he decides he dislikes the least. With a sigh, Azula calls him over to stand next to her, which he definitely grumbles about, but he follows her instruction with crossed arms.

Running forward, Azula places an apple on Mai's head. Where did she get an apple from, anyway?

"Here's how it goes," she says. His sister returns to him and Ty Lee, smirking. "Now what you do is, try to knock the apple off the other person's head, like this." Then she sends a small jet of fire straight for Mai. 

The apple doesn't even fall off her head. It catches on fire, and Zuko's heart is pounding at the look of utter shock on Mai's pale face. 

He doesn’t even think. He just sees how scared Mai is, and he knows he has to do something. Before he can think it through, he throws himself at Mai. She cries out as he tackles her into the fountain, and he ends up falling on top of her with a splash.

At the sound of exploding laughter, Zuko feels his face burn. He's suddenly hyperaware of every single place his body is making contact with Mai's, and he scrambles off of her in a panic. He catches a glimpse of her own embarrassment, though she's more visibly annoyed than genuinely upset like he is. 

"See, I told you it would work!"

"Your sister is soaked!" 

Cold and wet and flustered, Zuko can't be here for a moment longer. He just wants to melt into a puddle and disappear- maybe forever. He stomps out of the courtyard, and towards his mother, who reappears in a hurry.

"I was just coming to get you!" she beams. "Uncle Iroh sent us a package from the- you're- you're drenched." She falters, confused.

He doesn't even think- he just blurts out the first thing on his mind.

"Girls are crazy!" he half-shouts, flinging his hands in the air out of frustration. But before his mother can reply, he turns the corner and breaks into a run, eager to scrub the humiliation from his skin. 

After a quick bath and a change of clothes, he's presentable once more. He finds Mom and Azula right where he expects them to be, his mother cradling a decent-sized package in her arms. 

"You do realise you are one, right?" Azula whispers to him, a smirk on her face as Mom tears into the box of fire bamboo. 

Zuko frowns. "What?"

"A girl, dummy," his sister snarks back, a knowing look in her eye.

He swallows hard, looking away as if to ignore her. Honestly, though, he just doesn't know how to reply to that comment. 

When Mom reads the letter from Uncle Iroh, it becomes clear that she's bent the truth a bit in order to spare Uncle's feelings. The old general congratulates Azula on the wonderful progress she's made with firebending, and he thoughtfully includes another doll to replace the one she accidentally burned. 

Something wrapped in canvas sits underneath the doll, with a folded scrap of yellowing paper wedged between the two items.

"Oh, it's a letter from your cousin!" Ursa exclaims, scanning the ragged strip of paper. The letter from Lu Ten expresses how much he misses everyone, and how he hopes to see them all again very soon. At the end, he mentions in passing that since Zuko seems to enjoy playing with his shaving razor so much, his little cousin should have a knife to call his own. Iroh gave it to him, but he thinks his little cousin could find a much better use for it.

And so Zuko receives his first blade. Ursa looks wary at first, telling him in no uncertain terms that he should not be playing with knives. She says they're dangerous and should be handled with care. 

"But Mai has knives," he points out, alarm shooting through his stomach at the thought of not being able to keep the dagger. 

"That's different. She has a master to teach her," his mother reminds him, the knife still pointedly wrapped in canvas at the bottom of the package. 

Maybe Mai could teach him! He almost perks up at that idea, before quickly shooting it down in his head. Because how in the world is he supposed to look her in the eye so soon after that embarrassing incident earlier in the day?

"She's a nonbender, so she needs to be able to defend herself," Mom adds, unwrapping the dagger.

He visibly deflates, the implication obvious. Zuko is a bender, and if he was better, he wouldn't even need to learn how to use a knife. He's always falling behind in his training. He just can't sit still long enough to really pay attention- he can't ever seem to focus, especially not when he's too busy comparing himself to Azula. 

Father is right. The problem is that Zuko just isn't very smart.

Maybe- maybe Zuko just isn't good enough at all. 

As if sensing his spiralling thoughts, Mom's expression softens as she holds out the dagger. "So," she stresses, "I'm trusting you to be careful with it, Zuko-"

He hugs her tightly before snatching it away, setting off in a run to find a good place for practice. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-!" He barely sticks around long enough to hear her read Lu Ten's story about how he got the dagger, but Zuko doesn't think it matters too much. He'll see his cousin soon enough, and then he can hear the story in person.

Back in his room, Zuko quickly slides the sheath off, admiring the glossy finished. Though the cover is worn, the blade itself was obviously very well cared for. The engraving on the pearl dagger makes his eyes light with intrigue. 

It says, “Never give up without a fight.”

“I won’t,” he tells the blade, and he hopes Lu Ten can somehow hear him.

Slash, slash. Stab!

"Ah!" Zuko shouts, falling to the ground after being dealt a devastating blow by an invisible opponent.

It's one thing to half-heartedly shuffle around some dolls, and to talk to himself out of loneliness. But this… This is what it must feel like to actually lose one's self in imagination. This, for some reason, is a role he can more easily step into. It's been entirely too long since any kind of pretend play has brought him joy.

Happiness in any form, actually, feels increasingly harder to come by these days. Whereas Zuko once looked forward to being able to master his inner flame, he now dreads his lessons. Master Yusu can send shivers down Zuko's spine with just one look. And while it's shameful for a firebender to rely on traditional weaponry for self-defence, Zuko's fascination with knives and swords only grows. 

Holding the blade out in front of him, he thinks of himself as a soldier around Lu Ten's age. He sees a tall, faceless figure with broad shoulders and thick arms. The black armour trimmed in red shines across his future self's strong chest. His hair sits in a high top knot, and he stares down the enemy with brave eyes, a dagger in one hand and his helmet at his feet-

That's when it hits him. He's never actually tried to picture himself as an adult before. He's never put much thought into what he'll look like, or even what he'll be like. Swallowing hard, he comes to the conclusion that he will not look anything like Lu Ten. His voice won't boom across a military encampment in a deep timbre, like Uncle Iroh.

Once he reaches the age of majority, he will still be able to join the military. But away from the battlefield, he will paint his lips red like Mother. The cloth uniform issued to him will be smaller, fitted and cropped to show his stomach beneath the blood-stained armour. He won't grow scratchy sideburns like his cousin, or a goatee like his father, or a full beard like his uncle. No, he'll be pretty; beautiful if he looks anything like his mother. Soft skin and long lashes and a gentle voice-

Closing his eyes, the new image only partly forms in his head before fading away altogether. He tries to bring it back, to hold onto some part of it, but his mind lets it slip through every single time. He tries to convince himself he wants to see it- that he wants to grow into the gorgeous princess- the blushing bride- that his mother says he's meant to be. 

Everyone may look the same when they're fighting for their country, identical helmets and matching armour to erase any trace of individuality. And yet… Eventually, he sighs, choosing not to think about the future. Right now, he is Princess Zuko in title, but maybe he can pretend to be someone else behind closed doors. So, he jumps around, grunting and growling as he shreds an imaginary Earth Kingdom soldier into ribbons like the courageous warrior he hopes to become.

Someone snickers behind him. His face reddens when he turns to see Azula in the doorway to his bedroom, leaning against one wall with a smirk. Her ability to make him feel inferior without uttering so much as a single word, though nothing new, continues to astound him. She finds sick satisfaction in hurling insults, and nearly everything out of her mouth sounds like a lie. Azula always lies, except when she knows the truth will hurt more.

The next warship back from the siege doesn't bring gifts. It brings word of Lu Ten's death.

But that doesn't make sense. Fire Nationals are supposed to be better- smarter, stronger. The Fire Nation has great wealth and prosperity, incredible education, and a pristine military. But for all his country's greatness, it didn't help Lu Ten in the end. He died like any other Earth Kingdom soldier. 

Zuko doesn't know what to think about that, so he tries not to think at all for the next few days. 

But then Azula appears in his bedroom one night, singing, "Dad's going to kill you!" A pause. "No, really. He is," she adds, looking almost serious.

"Stop it," he snaps. “You’re lying!”

And she weaves a rather revolting tale, one he tries to ignore, but can't. She's getting louder and louder as she makes her way closer to his bed, and she's nearly in his lap by the time he looks up to see his mother standing in the doorway. 

Gingerly taking his hands off of his ears, he watches as Ursa drags Azula from the room. 

Azula always lies.

He... doesn't sleep very well that night. 

Azula always lies. Except when she knows the truth will hurt more.

But Dad would never kill him. Dad loves him! He doesn't show it, because maybe Zuko isn't the best kid, but still. He knows that his father loves him.

And so does Mother. But what a weird dream to have, his mother in a cloak, shaking him as she speaks. "Zuko," she'd said. "Remember this. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."

His brow furrows a little. He remembers her walking to the door, the hood of her cloak pulled up around her face-

"I love you, Zuko," she'd told him. Almost like she was saying goodbye.

Eyes wide, he looks around the room. There, of course, isn't a single sign indicating that she'd actually visited him in the night, but he somehow knows. He knows it wasn't a dream.

"Mom!" he yells, running from the room.

"Mom? Mom!" he calls for her, but no one answers. 

He enters room after room, all of them either empty or hosting people who aren't his mother. He disregards them and keeps going, racing through each wing of the palace. Eventually, Azula steps out from behind a pillar, and he nearly mows her down in his panic.

"Where's Mom?" he asks.

"No one knows," she shrugs. "Oh, and last night, Grandpa passed away." She twirls a knife between her fingers, and he immediately recognises it. 

"Not funny, Azula! You're sick," he tells her, shoulders rising in rebuke. "And I want my knife back!" He lunges, but she sidesteps him easily. 

"Who's going to make me?" she wonders, a mocking smile on her round face. She dangles the knife in front of him. "Mom?"

Face stricken with horror, he remembers his reason for initially scouring the palace. He lunges again, and this time, she lets him snatch the dagger back. He gives her one last look, still disturbed by her comments, and then he runs off. 

Azula always lies.

...Right?

Dad stands in the gardens, under the tree by the turtle duck pond. He doesn't turn when Zuko comes out of the corridor, frantic and scared and angry. 

"Where is she?" Zuko demands. 

His dad doesn't say anything. The man just keeps his eyes on the small pond, as lively as ever with baby ducklings. 

Something in the back of his mind pushes forward- he’s never actually seen his dad here before. He always stayed clear of it, insisting that it meant far more to Mom than it did to him. 

And now, his mom is missing, and his dad is in her favourite place-

The tears hit his cheeks before the reality of the situation finally topples over him.

With both Mother and Lu Ten gone, and Iroh consumed by his grief, no one can protect him. Between his sister's cruelty, his father's anger, and the harsh treatment from Master Yusu, Zuko can't see the difference anymore. His mind and body hurt all the same, and he can only pray to Agni for strength. But for some reason, the sun spirit never seems to be listening.

He is 10 when Azula tells him his breasts look weird, and in front of Mai and Ty Lee, nonetheless.

"Then stop looking," Zuko snaps back, fighting the urge to cross his arms over his chest. Despite the increasingly less-than-subtle hints from the servants who take turns laying out his clothes every morning, he refuses to wear any of the bandeaus in his wardrobe. 

"How can I not look?" Azula complains, tossing her bangs out of her face with an exasperated movement. "They're so pointy without a band to rein them in. You're a girl, so why don't you dress like one?"

Oddly enough, her words lack their usual venom, but they still sting. Mai and Ty Lee look away, seemingly embarrassed for him. The two girls have recently started to wear bandeaus themselves, and Zuko can tell. 

Not that he's been staring at their chests or anything! Because that would definitely be rude, not to mention completely improper. It's just that, well, he can tell when they're wearing a band, is all. And he certainly doesn't find himself thinking about the sight alone in his bedroom- how Mai might look in just her underclothes, all creamy skin for his eyes only- with a foreign tingle building between his legs. Because that would be so, so wrong in ways that Zuko can't quite name yet. He doesn't understand what he feels towards Mai, and how it’s different from the mere acquaintanceship he shares with Ty Lee, but he knows he has to keep it to himself.

He's thought about hiding the growing tissue on his own chest, but that would basically be acknowledging his body's sudden dive into puberty, and that's something Zuko just doesn't know if he can do yet. In fact, out of their de facto quartet, only Azula has yet to develop in that area. For this, Zuko envies her more than he ever has before. He doesn't want breasts, and he certainly doesn't like that their conical appearance makes them all the more obvious. But in order to minimise their presence, he would have to start wearing a bandeau, too- a wide, linen garment that sits sleeveless from the armpits to just under the breasts. Commonly referred to as a band, it's an undergarment that only girls wear.

And the more he thinks about it, the more Zuko doesn't like being associated with girls.

There's nothing wrong with girls, of course. His mother was an incredible person. Ty Lee is nice, when she's not being annoying. Mai is actually really funny in a dry, adult kind of way, and she's always nice to him, too. Being around her makes him nauseous, but almost in a good way, if that's even possible. He tries not to think about what that could mean, either.

Azula, of course, doesn't count as a girl. She occupies a category all her own.

Girls can be soldiers and naturalists and engineers and anything, really, and that's fine. So, Zuko doesn't have a problem with girls. He starts to think maybe he just has a problem being one. 

And then something clicks- something that's always been there, buried deep in the back of his mind.

Zuko isn't a girl. 

What if- What if Zuko is a-

He's a boy.

Zuko is a boy.

The revelation rocks him to the core. He doesn't know what to think, and he certainly doesn't have anyone he can ask for advice on the matter. He tries to scour the palace library for answers, but it contains old scrolls and tomes from floor to ceiling, and he has no idea where to even start. He spends long nights lying awake, just agonizing over the simple words. Girl, boy, girl, boy. He wonders what would happen if someone was maybe both, or even neither. And he wonders about all sorts of crazy things, but he always comes back to boy. 

Days pass. Weeks pass. Months, even. 

The more he uses that word- boy- to describe himself, the more natural it feels. Girl has always felt like his white funeral wear- it fits, but just barely, and only because it has to. It's the only thing he has ever known- the only colour he's ever been allowed to wear in mourning, and the only gender role he's existed in. Boy, though, feels like his cousin's undershorts, which he still sometimes wears beneath his trousers in secret. Both the gender and the garment fit decidedly well right now, but with a little extra room to grow into. He feels most at ease wearing them, even if neither can be outwardly seen. Even if everyone knows him only as the crown princess, Zuko is a boy, and just knowing this makes him feel a little more grounded. He feels connected to the life around him now, no longer like a spirit simply floating in and out of existence. He feels… real. 

He feels like a real person, as though some missing piece of himself has finally fallen into place. He feels whole.

The first time he tells someone, the confession is to someone he knows he'll never see again. It's safer that way, to test the waters with someone he can easily avoid if need be, should things go badly.

When Iroh mentions his intention to visit a few old friends, including one in Shu Jing, Zuko begs to come along, enraptured by the thought of meeting the small town's legendary swordsman. A softer man since the loss of his own child, Iroh can deny his nieces very little.

Students come from all over the Fire Nation with pleas to learn the way of the sword. These prospective disciples are usually teenage boys, bringing with them lavish words and sparkling gifts to exchange for the glory of blood-stained blades. The overwhelming majority of them are turned away. In fact, Master Piandao can recall the number of students he's taken with just one hand.

It started when Zuko left the two men with a pot of tea and a game of Pai Sho, running to the otherside of the courtyard with every intention of fighting off boredom. He practices the stance he'd seen a palace guard use with a sword once, every motion sharp and precise. Eyes narrowed, he walks himself through the same action over and over again until he feels a hand on his shoulder. Panicked, Zuko lashes out as he turns to face his attacker, only to see his uncle's friend catch the blade between bare fingertips. Zuko himself apologises profusely, but finds his stuttering stalled by the squeeze of another hand on his shoulder. And then Iroh's jaw drops when Piandao proclaims to have found his next student- the first in many years, and the first female one ever. 

Zuko manages to hide his grimace underneath an honest layer of excitement.

Later that afternoon, Iroh departs, promising to pick up his niece in a few weeks when he finishes catching up with his other friends. Now alone with Piandao, the child hesitates, glancing at his new master from the corner of one eye. He knows better than to speak out, but Piandao senses his skepticism anyway.

"When you write your name, you stamp the paper with your identity," he elaborates. "You must learn to use your sword to stamp your identity on a battlefield."

The 10-year-old takes that in, standing behind a large desk. Still holding the writing brush, his hand hovers over the blank piece of paper.

"Remember, you cannot take back a stroke of the brush, or a stroke of the sword," Piandao adds. "So, show the world who you are, and stand by that identity."

Zuko pauses for a long moment. Then he quietly thinks aloud, "What if I have more than one identity?" 

Brow furrowing in interest, his instructor asks him to repeat himself. Deciding to risk it, Zuko turns to face his master. 

"Which identity do I use on the battlefield?" the child asks. "The one everybody wants to see, or…" He trails off.

"In battle, you only have an instant to take everything in," the man says, slow, measured steps bringing him closer to the desk. "You don't have moments to think. You must learn to act on your instincts- to trust them."

Zuko's lower lip quivers. "Master-"

"You must be able to trust yourself. Your true self," Piandao emphasises, voice firm but not unkind. "If you don't trust yourself, no one will, Princess Zuko."

The sound of splintering wood cracks through the air. Zuko startles at the broken brush, horrified as blood drips down the side of his hand and onto the paper. He jerks his arm away, only to knock over the inkstone and send black running down the desk and onto the floor, creating an even bigger mess.

"I- I didn't mean-" he stutters, unable to explain why his grip crushed the delicate wood at the mention of his title in the first place. Looking up at Piandao, who looks only puzzled instead of angry, Zuko silently gasps for air. "I'm so sorry! I- I-"

Would Piandao hit him? Would it hurt? Would he use his hand, or the flat of his blade? Zuko shakes at the idea, eyes downcast as he tries to stutter out a complete apology.

"Princess?"

The master moves toward him, trailing around the desk to peer down at him, all while ignoring the painful splinters sticking out of Zuko's fair skin. No, the man isn't asking about his hand. He knows something else is going on.

Zuko knows he's in trouble. There's no way he can't be. So, in a fit of panic, he tries to at least complete their current lesson. With one finger, he writes across the paper in his own blood.

"Prince Zuko," Piandao reads, and his tone is so flat that Zuko can't tell what the man truly thinks. A long, dreadful silence follows the statement, before the man slowly and carefully asks, "Is that what you wish to be called?"

"No!" comes the immediate reply. Zuko finally looks up at the red characters smeared across the paper, stomach churning with anxiety. "I… Maybe? I don't know," he says, trying desperately to backpedal on his confession. But at the calm, judgement-free look Piandao gives him, the child whispers, "I don't want anyone to know. Not yet."

With a small nod, Piandao asks him to step outside. Zuko tenses, but does as asked. He waits for the reprimand, the smack, the threat to tell Uncle, but none of them come. 

Piandao doesn't call in his servant to help Zuko clean up- Piandao does it himself. The man clears out a few thin pieces of brush still clinging to Zuko's hand, and not a word passes between them. 

Even after his hand is bandaged, Zuko isn't yelled at. Zuko isn't punished. Zuko isn't in trouble, and he can't for the life of him understand why. Instead, Piandao just leads him through more seemingly-pointless exercises, like painting a landscape, and baking a fruit tart without a recipe. Zuko waits, and he waits, but Piandao says nothing more on the matter- not until Iroh returns to retrieve Zuko seven weeks later, handcrafted broadswords strapped to the child's back. 

Piandao has already said his piece to Iroh, in private, and then asks for a moment alone with his pupil. With a glance at his charge, Iroh nods genially, and moves to wait outside the gate. They have already agreed to an arrangement where Zuko must return every two months to continue his tutelage in week-long visits, and it's clear that the next trip cannot come fast enough for the child.

"Until we meet again, Prince Zuko," the swordsman breathes, so quietly Zuko almost doesn't hear it. But he does.

Those words change his life.


	2. The Other Side of Fear

When he returns to the palace, it's hard to pretend things are just as they've always been, because they're not. Zuko has had a taste of a life he cannot have, and he feels the weight of his secret every single day. 

All at once, it becomes too much. The day it happens is not particularly notable. His secret doesn't burst out of him in some dramatic and unexpected fashion. Nobody accidentally stumbles upon his situation, and decides to out him. No, the day he decides to say it out loud is like any other day.

The reason why he chooses this day is simple. Zuko wakes up, and his heart clenches. He thinks of all he has to do and all he has to say and all he has to be. And all at once, he can't take it anymore.

Locked in his room all day, he turns away the servants. He refuses any visitors. He doesn't even bother changing out of his nightclothes. No, his every waking thought is consumed with... it. With what he is. 

That evening, he stands outside the Fire Lord's private study to request an audience with his father. A guard passes on the message, and the child waits patiently, sweat dampening the back of his sleep shirt as he rehearses what he needs to say. He's gone over his spiel a thousand times today alone, over and over again- how to explain what he's feeling, how he came to realise it, and what he wants going forward. After what feels like a lifetime, Ozai allows his firstborn to set foot in the spacious office. The door shuts quickly behind Zuko, and he nearly jumps at the sound of his father's impatient voice. 

"Speak, girl, and be quick about it."

Flinching at the sharpness of his father's voice, Zuko fights to keep the crafted look of fearless determination on his face. He has never been very adept in social situations, and this secret feels undeniably huge. His body tenses with caution, and he briefly wonders if he should just shove these feelings down and try to forget about them forever-

Never forget who you are. 

His mother's last words to him.

That's when Zuko knows he needs to get this out of his brain. He wants these thoughts to be real. And they are real. He knows that, but he just has to be sure. He wants to know that he's not crazy. That he's not just imagining things. As much as it terrifies him, he needs to tell his father. Then, Zuko can't take back the words and lock them away forever. This will be permanent. 

His mother used to talk about how he's turning into such a wonderful young lady, and that she couldn't wait to see what a beautiful woman he'd become one day. It was Ursa's way of trying to make him feel better.

Except… he doesn't want any of that. That was her dream, not his, and it hurts. It hurts because it's one of the few things he has left of her, and he doesn't want it. He's barely 11, but he feels as though he's already wasted so much of his life striving to be something he can never be- someone he never wants to be. 

Never forget who you are.

He takes a deep breath, and every eloquent turn of phrase- every delicate way of breaking the news- disappears from his mind in an instant. Instead, his mouth chooses his words right as they are on their way out of his mouth, forever out of his control.

"I'm a boy."

Silence. 

Then: 

"What?" Ozai says, but he doesn't sound angry like Zuko expects. Instead, his father's stern voice rises with mild confusion, while his face betrays nothing. "What are you on about?"

"I don't want to be a girl," Zuko quickly clarifies. "I'm… a boy. In my head, Father. I'm a boy." He winces slightly. He already knows this is not going well.

Ozai's face tightens, and he growls, "You waste my time with this nonsense? Don't you realize how busy I am?"

Zuko shakes harder, fighting back the tears behind his eyes. Still standing ramrod straight, he replies, as firmly as he can, "Please, Father. Let me live as your son, and not as your daughter. I promise I will still bring honour to our family, and-"

"I don't care what's between your legs or your ears," his father snaps. "You've brought only shame upon this family since the day you were born."

Completely close to falling apart, Zuko squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to break down. Not yet. Those moments- those awful, heart-wrenching moments- are best saved for the middle of the night, when no one can hear the sobs muffled by thick blankets.

"Pretend to be a boy. I don't care," Ozai sneers, turning his back on Zuko to resume working at his desk. "But realise that this is still no excuse for mediocrity." His voice grows hard, as though forcing every word through a clenched jaw. "Not only is your younger sister still surpassing you in firebending, but I have also received word today that you're still fumbling through your academics as well." 

The Fire Lord pauses, as though thinking, but his back faces Zuko, and his expression remains unreadable. He speaks slowly and softly, tone deceptively thoughtful. "Since you are no longer a girl, I suppose we don't have to worry about trying to get you into the Royal Fire Academy for Girls anymore, hmm? Not that you would have ever managed, with your marks." With a small flourish of his brush, he continues proofreading an open scroll, as though this conversation requires very little of his attention. "No, that's one less opportunity for you to embarrass us."

And Zuko should be shaking out of the clear scorn his father shows him. Instead, he now shakes with relief, because his father does not hate him for this. His father hates him for other reasons- ones he is not privy to. It makes his chest hurt to know, but he will never, ever stop trying to win the man's affection. He may not have his father's support or understanding in this endeavour, but it sounds like… it sounds like his father won't stop him. 

That means Zuko can do this. Of all the things he has been denied, this, miraculously, will not be one of them. He may end up ridiculed, or sneered at, but Zuko is no stranger to unfavourable treatment. 

Zuko can do this.

"Now leave, and do not disturb me again," his father growls. "Next time, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father," Zuko manages through a voice trembling with tears of both fear and elation. "Thank you."

With a low bow, the boy scuttles from the room with haste. 

The servants can't hide their lack of understanding at first, because to them, it's as though Zuko has suddenly changed. He doesn't explain himself, and he feels like he doesn't have to. They're just here to serve, aren't they? The inner workings of a royal's mind do not concern them.

It's not as though he actually changed at all, of course. He's still very much the same person, albeit noticeably a little happier- a little more secure in his identity. He only corrects them in their speech, advising them to use male language when referring to him. Nobody quite knows what to say to that, but they comply without issue, because Zuko is still their princess- er, prince. 

Zuko is a prince now. The thought fills him with a truly ridiculous warmth, because it shouldn’t make that big of a difference. It shouldn’t be this monumentous, earth-shattering change, but it is. It means the world to him.

In their haste to please, the servants replace the gendered pieces of his wardrobe after Zuko begins refusing to wear them. He even leaves the royal spa one afternoon with his hair in a simple phoenix plume instead of the elaborate bun he'd kept for years.

The issue of his lady's maid, Giya, leaves him at a loss for words, though. Giya is his main servant, much like the female version of a lord's valet. Yet, 'lady's maid,' certainly undermines Zuko's newly-expressed gender. And it's not as though he can simply request that his entirely-female staff be replaced- he doesn't want grown men helping him bathe and dress. That would be uncomfortable to say the least. But he doesn't exactly want women around, either. 

His solution isn't ideal, but it will have to do. Azula gladly takes his staff, not even bothering to investigate his lame excuses for offering them to her- she now has double the amount of people to attend to her every whim. Zuko kind of feels bad for the women who are now tasked with Azula's, direct care, but he supposes them having a cruel employer is better than having no employment at all, right? He still remembers how many women were tossed onto the street after Mother left...

The only servant he refuses to transfer is Giya, under the very made-up position of gentleman's attendant. Zuko is royalty, and he can't let it seem as though he has lost any authority. He's the crown prince, after all. But even so, she completes tasks for him only sparingly. She draws his baths and does his hair, but he does not allow her to help with his clothes until he's already dressed in his first layer. It takes some adjusting to do everything for himself, but it's actually not that hard. 

With all of this sudden privacy, Zuko has the liberty to actually take his time- to see himself bare, and to pay attention. 

He does not like what he sees. His nude form makes his heart race with anxiety, and the more he looks, the more wrongness he sees. His shape has changed- is changing- will continue to change. Every curve and dip of pale flesh chips away at the person he knows himself to be. The flat part of his nipples are a little bigger now, and slightly darker, and he wonders if that's normal. Of the few men he's seen shirtless, always training under the hot sun of the palace training grounds, he hasn't seen any who look like that. His tapered torso has a new dip in it, where the beginning of his waist is starting to take shape, and he decides he hates it. He doesn't want to change. He likes how he used to look, skinny and sexless and without any of the weird new feelings growing inside of him. His body and his mind have fallen too out of sync, and it's too much to ignore any longer. 

He breaks into the infirmary that night. 

It's not hard. He's small and quiet, sticking to the walls like a shadow. He watches the on-duty nurse, and spends an hour familiarising himself with her routine. When her back turns, he knows he'll have enough time to pass her by unnoticed, so he does. And, of course, getting out is just as easy.

When Zuko first wraps his chest in stiff bandages, he realises that this could work. It hurts, just a little, but he is no stranger to pain. No, he misses the way he used to feel so free and unrestrained in his movements when he only wore his overclothes against bare skin, but once he starts, he can't stop. He wears them from the moment he steps out of the wash up until he's undressing for his next bath, even allowing himself to stay tightly wrapped in his sleep. It's difficult to breathe most of the time now, and his firebending only suffers more because of it, but he thinks it's worth every moment.

He looks in the mirror now and sees a preteen boy blinking back at him. 

One day, he doesn't hear the knock at the door, and Giya enters while Zuko is still partially uncovered. They both shout out in surprise, the woman bowing and muttering apologies while the prince sputters in anger, trying to cover his bare chest with just his hands as the half-wound bandages unravel from his flailing. Suddenly more aware of his body than ever before, he barges through his insecurities to be angry, and he starts yelling in earnest. 

He… says a lot of mean things. Things his father or sister might say. The words that come to mind are the ones that he's used to hearing from them, about himself. 

Stupid. 

Incompetent. 

Worthless.

She stands there, eyes lowered, and just takes it. Finally breathless, he turns around to tie the remainder of his chest away. And he regrets saying those things right as they leave his lips, but he's so angry, and she's the perfect outlet for his rage. She's letting him do it, letting him get away with it, and he briefly wonders if this is what true power is like. To do whatever you want, even when you're wrong. For other people to know you're wrong, too, and yet they don't question it. They just live with it.

Daring to break the terse silence, Giya politely begs him not to, saying it's a dangerous practice.

"I knew a man who was disfigured from not using bandages properly, Prince Zuko-"

She keeps talking, but he refuses to take them off, quickly throwing a shirt on so she can't look at him anymore. Red-faced and hair still wet from a bath, with eyes wild in furious embarrassment, Zuko imagines he looks like a mess in more ways than one.

"No! I need to!" he hisses.

"Please, my prince! Your breasts-"

In his humiliation, he throws fire towards her. The flames arc between them, pulsing brightly in warning. Giya flinches away, startled but unharmed. 

Shame and mortification creep up Zuko's neck in a red flush, and against his will, tears start to form in the corners of his eyes. 

He didn't mean to do that. He didn't mean to- to scare Giya, or hurt her, or-

She just doesn't get it! 

He needs this. 

A ragged breath slips from the woman's pale lips, and she bows steeply in apology. Unlike the servants that Azula has threatened before, she doesn't scurry away like an insect. She doesn't plead for mercy, or show any fear. Instead, Giya simply walks away, looking more resigned than rattled. It's this break from the norm that leaves Zuko unable to form a single sentence, effectively dismissing her from the room.

He doesn't bother to finish dressing. He goes straight to bed, too upset to speak to anyone the remainder of the day.

The following morning, Giya loudly knocks at the dressing room door. When Zuko, already clothed in his first layer, reluctantly allows her to enter, he notices two narrow garments folded tightly under her arm. With a bow of acknowledgement, she holds them out for his inspection, both sleeveless items a pale cream colour.

"Prince Zuko," she says, words oddly quiet. "Yesterday I requested the tailors make these shirts specifically for you. They spent the day collaborating with a physician's assistant to ensure its safety." She pauses before adding, "They are garments that will help your chest look flat, and without harming you." 

In shock, he doesn't say anything. He simply looks at her with his jaw hanging open. 

"Please, for the sake of your health, do not wear one in your sleep, my prince," she gushes when it's clear he's not going to reply. "Everyone warned me that a third of the day should be the maximum length these binder vests are worn at any given time."

He is so, so grateful- for her being thoughtful, for her caring enough to go out of her way in ensuring he has all the tools he needs to take this step in his transition. Especially when he had lashed out at her the previous day.

"And," she hesitates. She drops to the ground in a kowtow. "I humbly apologise. You did not give me orders to commission new clothing in your name. And with my speaking out of turn yesterday morning, I understand if you see fit to punish me, Prince Zuko."

His mouth feels dry, but he forces himself to swallow anyway. She had tried to help him, despite his unjust behaviour. He doesn't deserve her kindness. 

"Please wait in my main chamber," he says, voice a little detached. 

"At once, my prince."

Alone, he nearly tears off the bandages to try on one of the binders. It's a little difficult to slip on over his shoulders first, but it fits comfortably around his torso. His chest isn't flat like a tabletop now- it's more subtle, more discrete. Much like the way a man's chest slopes gently with pectoral muscles beneath the skin. The garment stops towards the lower third of his ribs, leaving room for his diaphragm to fully expand and contract without restraint when he bends. The fabric in the front feels rigid and unyielding, all the better to compress and smooth his chest, with stretchy bandeau material comprising the backside, allowing for the regular rise and fall of his lungs to continue uninterrupted. It's unlike any piece of clothing he's ever seen, producing far better results than he could have ever imagined.

A deep breath while wearing one almost has him in tears. His inner fire spikes with appreciation, and his chi paths fully alight for the first time in what feels like forever. It hurts much less than his previous workaround- it doesn't hurt at all, he realises with a delicious gasp.

Through the door, he thanks her profusely, also apologising for his behaviour the previous day. He is so close to fully crying, only he doesn't, because boys don't cry. Certainly not royal boys. 

Fully dressed once more, he calls her back in.

"You said you knew someone," he blurts out, looking at her with hope. "Another male… like me."

"Yes, Prince Zuko," she says, and then she pauses to look away. "My brother."

The boy blinks, stunned. "What?" he nearly shouts before lowering his volume. He doesn't want to scare her off, but his shock can't be contained. "What? He was born like me, and lives as a boy?"

He wants to meet this man, to ask him questions, to fully connect with someone similar. All this time he thought he was alone-

"He did, my prince." 

Oh.

At his look of realisation, she nods. "He has since passed." 

Kneeling down to gather the bandages bunched up on the floor, she continues, "He would bind with bandages much like these for days on end. It was the only thing he could think of…" She swallows hard. "Some of his ribs started to bruise, worse and worse each time, until one finally cracked. It pierced a lung, and we lived too far in the countryside to reach a physician in time. The town herbalist could only do so much."

"I'm so sorry, Giya," Zuko murmurs, amber eyes big with horror. His heart bleeds in empathy, as he knows all too well how losing a loved one hurts. "I'm… Spirits, that's awful. I shouldn't have- I'm- I'm sorry."

But she only smiles sadly, and says, "Do not be sorry. Sometimes things happen for a reason, my prince. For example, this tragedy in my family must have happened so I could be prepared for this moment 30 years later. So I could be prepared to help you." Her eyes shine with loss. "He would have wanted me to help you. Please, my prince… if you need anything, all you have to do is ask."

"Thank you," he whispers, genuinely touched by both her actions and words. With a small smile, she bows before leaving.

Alone once more, Zuko can't hold it in any longer. He cries, wondering if the reason Giya's brother is dead is the same reason why he has never met anyone else like them. He cries for the loss of a man he never knew, and he cries for the way his life could have just as easily been extinguished. He cries because he feels alone, but maybe a little less so after today.

Word about Zuko spreads quickly, and more so than other pieces of gossip. It's only two days later that his sister confronts him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demands, fists on her hips. 

"I… didn't know how to tell you," he confesses, suddenly feeling bad to have let her find out in such an impersonal way. They are still siblings, after all. Perhaps he should have trusted her more.

"What were you afraid of? That I'd set you on fire?" she scoffs. "It's not like we're Water Savages, Zuko. You don't need a cock to have power in the Fire Nation." He hides a cringe at her foul language, and instead sends her a harsh glare. Where did she even learn that word, anyway?

"Can you just drop it already?" he grumbles, face burning. He does not want to have this conversation. Not with someone so cold and callous.

"I'm serious, Zuzu," she tells him. "You're so desperate for love and acceptance, and it's actually kind of pathetic. Father's not going to suddenly love you just because you say you're a boy-"

"Shut up!" he roars, smoke rolling from his nostrils. 

Father does love him. Father already loves him, and- and that's not why he did any of this, damn it!

For the briefest of moments, a hurt look crosses her face. Just as quickly, however, she schools her expression into one he's much more familiar with. Now she looks almost bored, like she's too above him to care anymore.

"Whatever you say, Brother," she drawls, before stalking away. Even a word that feels so good against Zuko's ears feels so, so demeaning when coming from Azula's lips. He supposes her anger at him- at being left out of the loop- is her strange way of showing that she cares. 

He shakes his head. He doesn't understand Azula- he doesn't understand people- and he'll just have to accept that he never will. 

Uncle doesn’t say anything. Zuko thought this reaction would be worse- to not acknowledge that something has shifted at all. And as the old man pours two cups for their first afternoon tea since his coming out, Zuko panics, because maybe Uncle doesn’t know. Maybe he hasn’t heard. Maybe Zuko will have to tell him, and it was so hard, so terrifying just to get the words out the first time, and he doesn’t know if he can-

“Here you go, Prince Zuko,” Iroh says, and Zuko looks up, stunned, to meet the man’s soft expression. “It’s Jasmine. Your favourite.”

By ‘favourite,’ Uncle of course means, ‘the brew Zuko is the least disgusted by,’ but the child can’t muster up the energy to complain. His eyes fill with tears at the simple affirmation, and he averts his eyes to take a sip. The old man is still smiling- smiling just how Lu Ten had smiled at him all those years ago, in the older boy's dressing room. 

Zuko can feel it from the burning in his cheeks, to the somersaults in his stomach, to the stinging behind his eyes. He realises that surely Uncle must know about his stint with Lu Ten's old undershorts- that Uncle had already put all of the pieces together, probably even before Zuko had. 

“Thank you, Uncle,” he replies, gesturing to the cup in his hand, but he’s not talking about the tea. 

“You are most welcome, Nephew,” Iroh murmurs, and he doesn’t even try to hide the honest affection in his voice. "I will always love you."

Not everyone takes the news as well.

The next day, Mai turns away from him in the hallway. Ty Lee hesitates, before telling him, "I'm sorry, Zuko," and she sounds like she means it. "Our parents said we're not allowed to play with you anymore.” She pauses, a sad tilt to her big eyes. “You understand, right?"

He doesn't, but he just gives the girls a strained smile before turning away without another word. He walks away from them before they can fully walk away from him. He thought that maybe it would hurt less that way, but it doesn't. It still hurts- a lot. Especially when he knows, deep down, that they were never really his friends in the first place.

Quite a few of the guards avoid him, as well as the nobles who traverse the palace grounds. He pretends not to notice, and it's hard, pretending, but Zuko holds his head up high anyway. 

Never forget who you are.

It's the mantra that gets him through the day.

Even on the rare occasion where someone throws nasty words his way, he refuses to apologise for being himself. He fights right back with words, asserting his role as crown prince. He's laughed at, and sneered at, and even downright ignored. But in holding onto his convictions, the rumours live on, and they end up reaching the right ears.

When the head royal physician hears about it two weeks later, the man approaches Zuko. Startled, and even a little suspicious at first, the boy reluctantly agrees to meet the man in his office. Before he knows it, he's sitting in the back of the infirmary, on a plush cushion in a private office, being handed a glass jar of something that looks like flour. 

Physician Tah gives him strict instructions. He's told that he'll have to be seen regularly to adjust the dosage as needed. Apparently his skin will change too, which is weird, because flour shouldn't be able to give people acne, right? He's given a lot of information, a lot of odd things to look out for- things to don't make any sense. It's a lot to take in all at once, and Tah is quite the talker, but he does interrupt the man just long enough to ask the most important questions. 

"What is this?" Zuko says, examining the small jar of powder. "What are you talking about?"

Looking bewildered, the physician replies as if the answer should have been obvious. "It is jisu. To masculinise you, my prince."

Well, Zuko hadn't been expecting that. "What?" he says, completely flabbergasted.

"I apologise, my prince. I heard you were- ah, it would seem that the information given to me is not correct in regards to you requesting this service." He clears his throat, somewhat nervously.

"You- what?" Zuko said, brow furrowed in confusion. "I know people say bad things about me, but- what service? What is jisu?"

"Oh! I- well, ah, if you didn't ask for it- perhaps you're a little young-" Tah looks a little sheepish, but Zuko just crosses his arms and scowls.

"I'm 11," he shoots back, incensed by the accusation. "I'm not too young for anything. Now explain!"

With a hesitant smile, the physician starts. "Well, jisu is-" he pauses, considering his words more carefully. "You see, after we reach a certain point in our lives, the bodies of both men and women begin to fall out of balance. Conceiving another heir may become difficult, for example." Tah takes the jar back from Zuko, then rattles it a little, allowing the powder to ripple across the glass. "Well, it's not uncommon for older folks of the courts to supplement their body's natural production of the energies responsible. This type of energy, be it to masculinise or feminise, is called jisu." He straightens a little, his smile growing, as though sharing a well-guarded secret. "Ensuring heirs later on in life was only its original purpose, though-"

"Why are you telling me all this?" Zuko interrupts, looking suspicious, and rightly so. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

"You see, as a child, I was very sick for a time," the old man starts, and Zuko sits back, a little exasperated. Old people like Tah- like Uncle, like Grandmother- enjoy telling long, boring stories. So if Zuko wants answers, he has to prepare himself for the anecdote.

"A bad outbreak of pentapox reached my village," Tah says. "Have you ever seen someone with pentapox? The face swells along the sides of the jaw and in front of the ears. It gives an odd and very distinct appearance, like having a pentapus stuck to each side of your jaw, hence the name. And since it is a pox, there are, of course, red marks across the skin." The physician takes a seat across from Zuko, looking almost lost in thought for a moment. Zuko, however, remains unimpressed, and he shows it with a glare.

"Anyways, in short? Healers believe the illness damaged one or both of my testicles as a boy."

That gets an uncomfortable reaction out of Zuko. He shrinks back a little in his seat, and Tah misinterprets the look on his face. "You see, the testicles typically sit in a flesh sack beneath the penis," he begins to explain. "They are the source of male energies-"

"I know all that!" Zuko snaps, flustered, because he does not want to talk about boy parts. "I just- ugh. Just get on with the story already!"

Tah merely laughs, and Zuko scowls in indignation. It's not at all childish to be embarrassed by such things. People aren't just supposed to talk about these things in the open like Tah does, is all!

"Well, as I entered my teen years, I did not begin to form like other boys. I looked and sounded too feminine," Tah continues. "Right up until I was given jisu treatments."

Heart practically stopping, Zuko leans forward in his seat, attention now captured. This story clearly did have a purpose.

"So, it's an option for someone like you to acquire certain male traits by taking male jisu," Tah finishes, hands folded neatly in his lap. “If people like myself can benefit from it, you may, too.”

"Wait. So, you're saying that if I take jisu," Zuko says, amber eyes brimming with excitement, "I will become a boy in the way that other boys are?"

The smile on Tah's face falters. "There are many things jisu can do, my prince," he says very carefully. "But there are also many things it cannot do."

"What do you mean?"

"Male jisu isn't commonly given to born-females, and female jisu isn't commonly given to born-males. However, there is enough documentation for us to know what changes to expect, and what to not expect. For example, you will not grow testicles or a penis," the physician adds, pretending to not have noticed the boy's flinch.

"There are parts of you that jisu cannot change- things that were set in stone long before you left your mother's womb. It will not solve all your problems, but it can certainly help. My role as a physician is to help others in any way I can, and to improve the quality of life my patients experience. I am well-known throughout the city for my uniquely successful treatments." His voice softens a little as he searches Zuko's eyes. "Not only would not offering this knowledge to you be a stain on my honour, but I have watched you grow up, Prince Zuko. I only wish to keep you happy and healthy."

Tah doesn't even know Zuko that well, but he really seems to care. He doesn't seem to be solely loyal due to Zuko's title. It seems as though Tah actually just… wants him to be okay. 

And Zuko wants to be okay. He doesn't want to be sad anymore. He wants to be okay. He wants to be enough. He wants to be something more than he already is. 

"Please," he begs, his eyes bright with longing once more. Then he bows, much lower than he should as a prince showing respect to an individual of lower standing. "I don't want to be… who I am now. I want to be the real me. I want to be Zuko."

The kind old man smiles. "Please, my prince," he replies, ushering the boy to sit up. "The real Prince Zuko has been here all along. He just needed a little extra time to ripen."

It's such a ridiculous statement that Zuko can't help it. He laughs. He laughs so hard he cries. But then it's just crying, and he doesn't quite know why the tears keep coming, but maybe, just maybe, they aren't all sad tears.

Within months of taking his supplements under heavy supervision, Zuko's body starts to transform. His voice starts to deepen, breaking on nearly every other word. He's hungrier than ever, and the heat gets to him more quickly than it usually does. 

Strangest of all, though, he wakes on most mornings with the trickle of half-dried fluid between his thighs, a delightfully slick, if not somewhat gross, feeling. In tandem, the instinctual urge to grind against a pillow to relieve the throbbing in his groin always makes itself known, which he does only after much hesitation. It seems to both relax him and get him worked up at the same time, even if he stops before his pleasure can be fully sated. The sensation, when built too high, alarms him. 

Iroh laughs, much to Zuko's displeasure. He scowls, thighs pressed tightly together. 

"I am not making fun of you, Prince Zuko," Iroh assures him. "I have just never heard it described in such a way before. That is all."

Uncle Iroh had been oddly accepting upon hearing the rumours about Zuko, so it only felt natural that the boy could trust his uncle with something… just as odd.

Still frowning, Zuko looks pointedly at his bare feet. "So, if it's not some kind of urine, then what's coming out? Why does it feel like I need to use the toilet?"

At this, Iroh's grin slides from his face, and he looks… well, Zuko would say he looks uncomfortable, but that can't be possible. He's never actually seen anything bother his uncle before.

Taking a seat by his nephew's side, Iroh clears his throat. Zuko sits on the edge of his bed in just a sleep shirt and a fresh pair of undershorts. Crumpled up on the floor is the pair of underpants Zuko had initially worn to sleep, the damp spot at the crotch being the source of his mortification. Iroh just looks at the garment for a moment, then finally turns to Zuko.

"I believe it may be arousal. It only means your body is interested in sex, Prince Zuko," he says gently, a faint trace of embarrassment visible in his soft expression.

A furious blush blooms across the boy's fair skin. 

At 12 years old, Zuko becomes painfully shy around most women, and he finds himself full of very lewd thoughts concerning them. While he's not allowed to interact with Mai and Ty Lee, he still sees them when they visit Azula, and there is certainly no shortage of attractive women around the palace, both servants and noblewomen alike. He's caught glimpses of perky breasts bouncing with sudden movements; how a full, round bottom will strain against fitted robes when a noblewoman bends to seat herself. He sees how loose clothing catches on broad hips and long necks when servants bustle around him. He notices every line, every curve, every shape; new to his eyes, though he knows they’ve been there his whole life. 

These thoughts- and the dreams, oh, don’t even get him started on the dreams- often leave his private parts wet, and now it's starting to show through his underwear. He initially wanted to ask Giya, because he thought maybe this was an anatomy issue, but he talked himself out of it. To have her, a woman, speak to him about such an intimate body part would surely be unbearable. Hence, Zuko had sent an urgent summons for Iroh at such a late hour. After all, it's not as though Ozai would be keen to tell Zuko these things.

"Has this ever happened while you are awake?" Iroh finally asks. "A lot of fluid comes out all at once?" 

Zuko shakes his head. "It's- when I'm awake, sometimes it's there. Like a slow… trickle." He grimaces, embarrassed beyond words. "When I woke up just now, though, there was a lot, so…"

So, he got scared and called for Uncle's help.

"Well," the old man says slowly, as if still figuring out what he wanted to say. "I must admit, I do not know much about how your particular body would work during this stage of life."

Zuko sighed. "Figures," he muttered, kicking his legs aimlessly. He just has to be different, doesn't he? If Zuko had just been born male, this would all be so much less confusing. 

His body is a traitor.

"Now, don't be so hard on yourself," the old man lightly admonishes. "While I am unfamiliar as to whether or not this frequently happens with young women, I can tell you for certain that such emissions are very normal for boys your age. That seems to be all this is, or something similar, I'm sure," Iroh chuckles. "You see, physicians believe that men must purge stale seed from their bodies in order to stay fertile. So, when young men do not pleasure themselves manually, the body does so on its own, usually during sleep-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Zuko interrupts, scrunching his nose in confusion. "What do you mean by that? Doing what manually?"

Iroh clears his throat, looking more than a little uncomfortable now.

And to his immense satisfaction, Zuko experiences his first climax later that night, sheets soaked in sweat, naked limbs lazily sprawled across his bed. Still panting, Zuko looks at his hand, sticky with his own juices as well as the contents of a vial Iroh had given him shortly after their talk. With a start, he realises the very same oil he'd found in Lu Ten's room all those years ago must have been for a similar reason as well. 

He understands now. This touching-yourself business feels incredible. Though he's still cringing that Uncle had to actually brief him on the concept, when apparently most boys figure it out on instinct alone, he's grateful. 

Maybe this talk would have been easier with his mother still around. 

His eyes slide shut, and suddenly the high starts to wane from his glowing skin. 

No, his mother is gone, and his remaining parent paints himself to be a very unapproachable figure.

While his left wrist aches from his enthusiasm that night, his right hurts for another reason entirely. The bruises there have not yet faded since Fire Lord Ozai ordered his children's firebending instructor to use harsher punishments. Usually, whenever Zuko messes up, he gets a minor blow- one to the shins Lately, though, Master Yusu has been reprimanding him more frequently and with more force, hauling him out of a form by the wrist, or even giving Zuko the occasional smack to the back of his head. 

Little does Zuko know his last training session at the palace will be the worst to come.

The 13-year-old boy cries out as hot hands wrap around both of his still-tender wrists, Master Yusu's breath hitting his cheeks as the man leans in. Zuko looks up at his firebending instructor, mind racing as he tries to figure out what mistake in his form could have invoked another beating. Before he can ask, however, the press of Yusu's lips against his own causes his body to jolt in alarm.

The urge to protect himself shoots through Zuko's spine, and heat jumps to his fingertips. Head jerking back, he gasps out a breath.

"How dare you-" 

Yusu clamps down harder on his dominant side, twisting it away from his body. The action dissipates Zuko's chi, and only smoke sputters out of his left hand. He tumbles to the concrete when a knee meets his abdomen, and a sharp cry of pain leaves his throat.

Out of breath, Zuko can only watch in horror as Yusu descends on him, straddling him with powerful thighs. 

He can't think. He can't yell, or even move. He's just frozen for a long moment as he stares up at the middle-aged man. A man the Fire Lord himself entrusted to train his children.

Oh, spirits- has this happened to Azula?!

Puffs of smoke escape his nostrils, and suddenly the need to protect his baby sister overrides his fear. Zuko struggles and thrashes against Yusu, ripping a cruel laugh from the man's throat. Yusu leans down to steal another kiss, and ends up slobbering against Zuko's cheek when the boy sharply turns his head away. 

"Don't fight it, Princess," Master Yusu says, and a chill runs through Zuko's body as the implications finally hit him. He has known Yusu for many years... including a few years when he still presented as a girl. Which means Yusu must have a pretty good idea of what lies beneath Zuko's clothes.

A primal fear fills the young teen, and he violently bucks his hips upward out of a desperate need to get Yusu off of him. He knows what this is now- he knows how Yusu is thinking of him. 

But the older man just holds on tighter, leaning forward so that his centre of gravity rests above Zuko's hips, unaffected by the motion. As though eager to respond nonetheless, the master firebender rubs his groin into the prince's stomach, his hard arousal skating across Zuko's thin training shirt. The foreign appendage, once so intriguing, now only fills the prince with dread. 

Bristling at the man's boldness, Zuko finds his voice. "Get the fuck away from me!" he growls.

Copper-coloured eyes drift down Zuko's face, through his neck, and over his torso. The gaze lingers too long at the tiny triangle of flesh bared by the base of the boy's throat.

"I can't wait to find out how much you've grown. Hard to believe you're almost a woman already," Yusu continues, and Zuko knows without a doubt now that his suspicions are true. Teeth graze the side of the collar of the child's shirt, before placing quick kisses against the exposed skin just above. "Tell me. Have you bled yet?"

"Stop it!" Zuko yells, twisting his head away.

"You can pretend to be a boy, but we both know it isn't a cock of your own that you really want," the voice above him insists. "You just need a good fuck, and you'll be good as new."

Yusu's hold loosens as he reaches for the boy's sash.

"Well, not new, of course," he grins. "You'll be used. Broken in, just a little-"

With speed and strength he didn't know he possessed, Zuko's right hand whips through the air, breaking free from Yusu's grip and punching him square in the face. The older man's head snaps back with an audible crunch, blood gushing from his nose. The moment of distraction is enough, though. Yusu lets go of Zuko instinctively, hands reaching for his face. 

"You fucking whore-!" He's cut off abruptly when Zuko shoves him away, scrambling to his feet. All his life, he's been taught to stand and fight- that only cowards run. But he is a child, and as much as his breath control has improved recently, he can't hope to best a master. 

If this were a regular fight, then he could try. But Yusu wants- Yusu wants him. Yusu wants to invade Zuko, defile him, steal his virtue, and dismantle the sanctity of his autonomy. 

Zuko runs. 

Feet pound after him in the distance, but he's smaller, and faster. He also grew up in this palace, and he remembers getting dragged on adventures of Hide and Explode with Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee. Locating a servants' passage, he ducks in, bare feet carrying him quickly.

Giya and Iroh make close allies. In retrospect, Zuko should have tried to find one of them instead, or he could have at least tried to hide in Iroh's chambers. But the child inside him runs for his father- his protector. Soon enough, he stands at the front of the throne room, sweaty and disheveled. And when the Fire Lord, in the middle of a war meeting, holds up a hand to silence the speaking general, Zuko takes this as his cue to start talking. 

The men present listen in silence, their attention fully focused on the distraught prince. Master Yusu is well regarded across the Capital, and they have all met him. Surely, they need to know he's an ignorant bastard- a monster! Horror flashes clear across Iroh's face, eyes flickering down the boy's chest, and Zuko remembers that blood still stains his scarlet training clothes in dark blotches. 

Fire Lord Ozai listens, face hard. 

Because he cares, he cares about Zuko, he cares that Zuko is hurting-

When Zuko finishes his story, he turns slightly to see Yusu just two feet away, on the ground in a kneel as he waits for his turn to speak. He must've finally tracked down the prince in the middle of the tale.

But the golden eyes of the Fire Lord do not leave his son's face. 

Zuko takes in the expressions of everyone before him, their brows furrowed in outrage despite the stoic masks they try to wear. And the boy thinks himself grateful to have so many people who care.

He thinks for once in his life that maybe he is lucky, after all. 

With less than an hour before his Agni Kai, the Fire Sages bicker about what Zuko should wear. Tradition dictates men to fight bare-chested, and the prince outright declares he will not do so. Despite being on jisu, his chest has continued to develop, much to his dismay, and he can't stomach the thought of baring himself to the world in such a manner. The thought of baring himself to Yusu, especially, makes him want to throw up.

The Sages agree. To force a young woman to expose herself in such a manner would be dishonourable, they say.

"I am not a woman," Zuko snaps.

The women's wear for such a duel involves a specially designed halter top, the upper-arm bands interwoven with the sides of the cloth. The Sages eagerly share this idea, to which Zuko also refuses.

"Are you all deaf? I am not a woman!" he asserts. After an awkward silence where none of the Sages know how to respond, they resume their discussion, still no closer to a solution.

Zuko is not a woman, and he certainly doesn't look like one, either. His hips have stayed fairly narrow, with muscle filling in the slight curves of his waist, and he has no desire for any feminine part of him to be seen by anyone. With all four of the brand-new hairs below his collarbone, he thinks himself quite manly already. Not even the area between his legs, hidden by nature's design as well as thick curls, can make him feel like a girl- not when he can pleasure himself just as well as any other teenage boy. 

No, it's really only the stubborn fat on his chest that makes him self-conscious. Even more so now that he realises there are people out there like Yusu. There are people out there who do not care who he is- they only see the body he was born with. Yes, Zuko makes plenty of people uncomfortable by challenging their perception of gender, but he never thought- well, he had never thought it could result in violence. He had never thought about the possibility of someone actually hurting him-

He had never thought about dying- literally risking his life in a fire duel- to obtain the most basic level of respect he should be afforded. Now, that's exactly what he must do.

Finally, after much arguing, all the Fire Sages settle on allowing Zuko to use sarashi- an ancient form of breast covering still used by savages like the Water Tribes. 

The long, cotton strip tied around him pulls at the small pinches of fat next to his armpits, but Zuko ignores it. Like a bandeau, his chest is somewhat pressed down, but it doesn't constrict his breathing like medical bandages. The material is also nowhere near as good a concealer as the binder he usually wears, so it's still incredibly obvious to everyone what lies underneath. He feels really exposed, but his honour is on the line. His very existence as a male had been challenged, and his safety has been compromised by a trusted mentor. If the sarashi is the only compromise afforded to him, he will have to accept it.

Standing in the small back room he has been relegated to for preparation, Zuko flexes his hands, knuckles cracking. He has to swallow the anxiety at the idea that countless acquaintances will see him so immodestly dressed, many of them much older men. Yet he has no real choice. Not only did he interrupt an important war council, but he showed cowardice in running from Yusu's assault instead of fighting. One of these things on its own may have been overlooked, but combined, he knows his actions can not go unpunished, lest others see their Fire Lord as weak-willed. He knows Father only wants to give Zuko a chance to redeem himself. 

Now, however, he must face his assailant in a formal duel. The thought of seeing his former instructor again, and so soon, sends a shiver of apprehension down Zuko's spine. But he has no choice. He must stand and fight Master Yusu like a man.

When Zuko turns around, he feels even more grateful for the wrappings around his chest. Maybe then no one will see how wildly his heart pounds, trying to tear free of its cage at the sight of his father.

He knows it's not okay to cry, but the tears fall anyway. Zuko drops to the cold, hard tile beneath them, refusing to fight the man who means everything to him. 

"Please," he begs, voice cracking pitifully. "I am your loyal son…" More words come from his mouth, but none of them matter. 

The tears evaporate when Father sets his face on fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed content warnings: 
> 
> Gender dysphoria, including; general allusions to puberty and sexuality, confusing thoughts on gender and sexuality, unwanted development of breasts, getting "wet" and freaking out about it, implied masturbation for the first time, male trans character caught topless, binding incorrectly, forced to wear revealing clothing in front of a crowd. Misgendering and others referencing trans character's body parts in front of trans character. 
> 
> Transphobia, including; intentional and accidental misgendering, references to trans character by sex and not gender, not believing/accepting trans identity, trying to "fix" trans identity with sexual assault, brief scene where trans character is cut off from friends/acquaintances.
> 
> Sexual assault on a trans child, including; kissing, brief grinding, child being held down and demeaned.
> 
> Minor TWs throughout story: physical and emotional child abuse.
> 
> The GOOD warnings: trans male character learning to accept himself and his body more. Support from other characters, including help transitioning through offer of hormone therapy, being gifted a binder, and general acceptance.


End file.
